


Smile for Me

by kayisdreaming



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Oneshot, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), implied blue lions run but has no bearing on the story, sylvain's missed A rank opportunities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayisdreaming/pseuds/kayisdreaming
Summary: Sylvain is having a rough day but, when Marianne comes to him and asks if she can practice her smiles with him, can he really say no?A possible B+ or A rank because Sylvain was robbed
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Marianne von Edmund/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Smile for Me

There was something sobering about reading letters from Margrave Gautier. Perhaps it was because Sylvain's father only wrote when he wanted something. It could be that he oft wrote to his son like he was little more than a common foot soldier. Or maybe it was because, again, his letter insisted that Sylvain produce an heir as soon as possible. He might as well have only written the words 'crest child' and that would have saved him the effort of formality.

In utilitarian terms, Sylvain could understand. The war had interfered in his father's plans: the Academy was meant to get noticed, to encourage beneficial matches for Gautier. The more Sylvain distinguished himself, the more nobles would come flocking to the Margrave for arrangements. If Sylvain was skilled enough, it would make suitors forget that Gautier was both inhospitable and dangerous.

Although Sylvain had explicitly tried to be as unappealing a match as possible, it hadn't stopped the inquiries and proposals. The war, on the other hand . . . well, who wanted to marry into a Kingdom that could soon become little more than a conquest?

It made his father desperate. It didn't matter _what_ kind of heir Sylvain had anymore, just that he had one. After all, the Margrave and his wife were far too old to have children. And chances were good that their only son would get himself killed out there.

"Sylvain?"

Sylvain twitched, crunching the letter in his fist. Well, he'd have tossed it into the fire the next chance he got, anyway. He exhaled slowly, trying to ease the letter's contents into the back of his mind.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted! I'll--"

Marianne. Always so silly to think she was of more harm than good. Sylvain slid into a sweet smile. She'd gotten so close to where he was leaning against a pillar, and somehow he hadn't noticed. Well, his father had that effect. "Well, hello there, Marianne. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her hands clasped in front of her, her forefinger gently rubbing over her knuckles. She hadn't quite brought her hands up in prayer yet, so he could at least assume she wasn't a) asking the goddess to forgive her for something entirely silly or b) asking the goddess to save her from him. He could count that as a win.

"Well, I . . ."

"You can tell me; I won't bite." He rested his hands behind his head, his smile wide and lazy. "Oh! Let me guess. You wanted to check up on me after that battle? Well, I can assure you that I'm in absolute perfect health and better than ever, thanks to you."

"Oh . . . well, I'm . . . happy to hear that."

"That's . . . not what you came to talk about, is it?"

She glanced away, expression downcast.

"Is everything okay?"

"It was foolish. Please, just ignore me." She shook her head. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Oh, come on, Marianne. I thought we were past this." Sylvain tipped his head so he could catch her expression. She was anxious, probably not too far from leaving if he didn't play his hand right. He let his smile fall into something more relaxed, less radiant. Too far from neutral and it would scare her back into her hiding place in the Cathedral. "We're friends, aren't we? You can talk to me."

She swallowed, nodding slightly. Tenuously, her gaze met his. "I . . . suppose."

Sylvain waited, letting her fidget. If there was anything he had learned about her in the last year, it was that communication required the patience of a saint. Sure, it was possible to try and push through a conversation--she would follow along, offering a word or two, but otherwise she offered silence. To _really_ talk to her required slowing down to her pace. With her, he found he didn't mind.

She swallowed, fingers curling into her skirt. "I've been . . . practicing my smiling."

Oh. He'd nearly forgotten those days as a careless teen, laughing and blathering on. Back when he was doing everything he could to destroy the expectations around him. Back when he thought it was a pleasant distraction to get someone so different from him to just smile. To not bear those burdens of hers so heavily.

And yet now they all had so many burdens to bear. It was silly, thinking that they could just smile their way through it.

"I'm happy to hear it." He said, shrugging. "Most people just ignore my advice."

"I . . . don't have to use 'cheese' as often. Just . . . sometimes." The implied ' _when it's hard_ _to smile_ ' sat in Marianne's tone in a way that resonated too easily with Sylvain.

And yet she was still smiling. It was uncertain in a way that could shatter with so much as a breath, and yet still it lingered at the edges of her lips, in the small creases at the corner of her eyes. Not forced, but still more than 'cheese' could provide. And, most importantly, Sylvain could see that it was genuine. More genuine than he had let himself so much as attempt in . . . ever.

"It's a lovely smile." He said, voice soft in a way he didn't wholly intend. He cleared his throat. "I, er, offered to take you into town when you were ready, right? We could go. I know some beautiful--" He grimaced, realizing himself. She was probably already miles from her comfort zone--there was no reason to push her further. "Or. . . did you only want to show me? That's alright, too. Don't let me pressure you."

"I don't want to be a burden." She said, glancing away. Her cheeks colored slightly. "But I . . . think I would like to try."

He grinned. "Perfect. I know just the place."

  
  


That had been a blatant lie, Sylvain realized, the second he stepped into the town square. Sure, this was a nice place in general. There were fewer troubles due to sheer proximity of the rapidly improving monastery, so people were nicer. The dining scenes were well-supplied and delicious (at least for wartime).The outdoor music was skillful and entertaining.The markets were full of intriguing things just waiting to be bought.

But all that stuff appealed to normal girls. With how rapidly her smile vanished, Sylvain was absolutely certain that it wouldn't work for Marianne.

It made sense. It was obvious. It would require anew strategy.

His eyes fell upon a nearby vendor's cart. It was generally popular after dark, but in the daytime most people didn't bother with it. The wood looked old, there wasn't really any smell coming from it, and the sign was hand-painted in a rather pathetic way. Yet it never failed to disappoint.

"You like sweets, right?" He asked, smiling down at her.

"Um, yes, but I--"

"Great. Wait here just a moment."

He didn't wait for her protest, instead heading straight for the cart. With a few coins and within a couple minutes, two fresh sweet pastries were in his hands. He strode back to her, grinning.

"Here," he said, offering her one, "berry is your favorite, right?"

"Oh, yes." Her fingers were gentle as she took the treat from him. He very nearly had to drop it into her hands, with how little she pulled away. "How did you know?"

Sylvain hummed, taking a bite of his own. Still fresh.Still just that right balance of tart against the sweetness of the dough. Not quite the same quality as the monastery's, but different in a way that made it satisfying. "I think I've overheard you saying you and Dorte have similar tastes, and he kept stealing them when I was feeding Ebony, so . . ."

". . . Sorry." She muttered, taking a small bite. Reserved even there in a way Sylvain wasn't.

"Don't be." He shrugged. "He's the one who took them, not you. And I think Ebony forgives him, anyway."

That smile of hers returned, even though it was fleeting.

Which meant he was in the right direction, but needed just a bit more. He glanced across the square. Staying here would be too much, especially with the growing crowd. Which meant there was only one alternative.

"Come on, I know a place you'll like. Take my arm." He said, offering with just the slightest nudge of his elbow. "I don't want to lose you in the crowd."

She looked at him with obvious uncertainty, but nodded. Slowly--painfully so--her fingers curled along the inside of his elbow, resting there. Light like a coat draped over his arm.

He placed his hand over hers, knowing he wouldn't feel it otherwise if he lost her. As they walked like this, he imagined they looked like quite the couple--a loud, boisterous man accompanied by a soft and gentle woman stepping alongside him. It was kind of funny: if he had to choose a wife, Sylvain found that he wouldn't really mind choosing her.

After all, he was sure that even the non-superficial aspects were ideal in the eyes of nobility. In the last five years, Marianne had grown into a remarkably beautiful woman (and Sylvain wasn't too hard on the eyes, either). Her manners, which were always rather stunning, only got more polished and refined (Sylvain could manage where the situation demanded it). Likewise, they both were of good families, where the union could only benefit their respective houses and territories. Technically, both were of the ideal age and lineage for Crest-bearing children. For the sake of Gautier, even his father wouldn't complain--for Marianne's experience in battle and skill in Faith magic made her absolutely perfect for a territory constantly fighting Srengi invasions.

It would be ideal, really, and he would _never_ ask it of her. He wouldn't wish it upon his worst enemy, and he absolutely wouldn't try to entice someone he _actually_ liked to fall into that pit trap of a fate.

"Sylvain . . . um . . . " Marianne was quiet, "this isn't the town."

With a hum, he let his eyes fall across the landscape before them.

Immediately after the war, this place had been barren. Even the forest leading up to it had been damaged by the fires and spells, leaving little but dust and ashes. But now it was different. With people tending to the land once more, the fields had returned. The trees were sprouting, some much faster than ever anticipated. The land was green again. Animals ran freely--in this case, a herd of horses left wild for now.

"Technically," he mused, "this is still the town's land. For farming and stuff."

"I . . . see . . ."

"I know you want to practice," he said, nodding toward a large stone resting just beneath the shade of an oak, "but there's no reason to force it all at once." He offered a hand to help her sit, joining once she was comfortable.

Marianne sighed. "Then . . . I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"You've been forcing yourself to be here with me, even though you don't enjoy it."

"Hey, I've been enjoying myself."

"Your . . . smile. It's there but it's . . . not happy."

"What are you talking about, I've been smiling all day." He froze. What normal person knew how much they were smiling?"It's just . . . been a long week."

"I see. . ." She glanced away, fingers clasped together. "I wanted to thank you for this. For this chance. Maybe . . . next time, I could try to help you smile?"

He blinked, glancing down at her. She didn't hate it; she wanted to do it again. He smiled slightly, in a way that matched the growing feeling in his chest. "I'd like that."

**Author's Note:**

> Just practicing smaller fics with a oneshot here. Picking topics that I couldn't really write a 10k fic with


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